


Of Flames and Sea

by Count_Awkwardness



Series: A story can change people, but can a couple of people change the story? [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: A hug I will not provide, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Made Myself Cry, Inspired by Music, My First AO3 Post, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Original Character Death(s), Other, i made a playlist for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_Awkwardness/pseuds/Count_Awkwardness
Summary: Obi Wan Kenobi lost everything he had.All he has now is an empty cave, a boy to protect and memories from another life. Accompany him as he adapts to the harsh desert of Tatooine. As cries, as he remembers, and as he heals.----------------Obi Wan Kenobi au
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: A story can change people, but can a couple of people change the story? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117877
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Of Flames and Sea

**_“A broken heart is all that’s left”_ **

Obi Wan Kenobi had few possessions, all fitted tightly into a bag and slung over his back- barely enough to slow him down in the climb towards one of the caves. It was located in the skirts of the Dune Sea, far enough not to be found easily, but close enough to keep an eye on the baby boy he’d handed over to the Lars family. 

The Tusken proved to be easily spooked, and for some reason, they seemed particularly afraid of the blue blade he’d used to fight them off. It took him a few days to recover, the battle had been exhausting in every way and he was not ready to face the memories his belongings would awaken. So, he rested, and left the brown bag abandoned in a corner until he knew he could not postpone it any longer.

Bit by bit, the bag was emptied, and with every object, came moments of a life that had slipped through his fingers.

The last thing he took out and hid was the weapon that his once brother had used, and it was only then that he realized how quiet it was. 

No jokes, no teasing, no remarks, questions, small talk or battle strategies. The silence that he once found comforting, now seemed suffocating. 

But maybe it was destiny. That all he’d ever have would be suffocating silence, small objects with forgotten memories and a broken heart.

  
  


**_“I’m still fixing all the cracks”_ **

One of the many abilities that he’d been praised for was his capability to keep a cool head in difficult situations. But they had never told him how to keep that behavior in a quiet, peaceful place. 

It was only this quiet, peaceful place that would hold his pain; overlooking a sea of yellow and orange, with a soft breeze blowing.

Sometimes, he'd get lost in a trace in the middle of usual activities, and wouldn't realize the small, sniffling sounds were coming from him until his hands traced the tears. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't stop them from coming, and they only grew. 

He tried to push away the images of the disfigured, burning body of Anakin Skywalker, or the wide empty eyes of Thistima Saasha, laying with a lightsaber wound on the bloodied floor of the Temple. But they were only replaced with the sound of the last words a slashed mandalorian helmet had muttered to him.

Sometimes, he went out of the cave and followed the advice she had once given him. He sobbed like he’d never cried before, he screamed to the silent mountains of sand, passed hours slashing and striking the mountain with every ounce of force he had. 

He let himself submerge completely in the river of grief that flowed in his mind, and let his body redirect the current. 

It would usually be dawn when he fell to his knees, with no tears left to cry, no voice in his throat and every muscle in his body exhausted. He felt empty, but it was no longer unbearable.

The stone based bed seemed a lot more comfortable those days.

Taking walks along the dessert, and meditating, helped him go forward.

The Force helped him realize that Anakin had been lost a long time ago, and the thing he fought was far from the man he knew. And he feel Thistima’s presence every time he connected with the space in between.

But through a bracketed metal band around his wrist, through an old and worn bracelet of cloth and a leather strip tied around the handle of his lightsaber, a single crack remained in his heart- one he knew would never heal. 

  
  


**_“Lost a couple pieces when I carried it, carried it, carried it home”_ **

He stared back at the woman in front of him.

“Sir? Your name?”

A thousand things rushed through his head. He couldn’t use his real name- Jedi were still being hunted down and although his title was fading, his name had far from vanished from the tales of war. But what could he use? The only other names he could think of were of other jedi, which wouldn’t be of much help.

Then, suddenly, as if she was right there next to him, he heard her voice say the words she’d told him years ago.

_If you say Obi Wan fast enough in a mando’an accent, it sort of sounds like Ben. Besides… it sounds like you. Simple, strong and short._

The last part came with an image of her laughing, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Ben” 

“Ben… Alright mister, and your last name?”

_Dank Farrik_

He opened his mouth to say her last name but he closed it again. Ben still sounded somewhat familiar, felt like it was a part of him, but her last name didn’t fit him. It wasn’t his.

He tried different surnames he knew, in his head, but none seemed to weigh correctly. Jedi weren’t really allowed the attachment to one’s biological family, but his name, all of it, had become an identity of his own. 

Obi Wan Kenobi had already lost so many pieces that made him himself.

The Jedi.

His home.

His Master.

His Padawan, his brother.

He wasn’t going to let another piece of him be lost out of fear.

“Kenobi. Ben Kenobi”

  
  


**_“I’m afraid of all I am”_ **

The darkness inside of him seemed to grow smaller and smaller as time passed. His days were filled with rutinary activities, as well as watching over the growing boy, which allowed him to have a sense of peace.

But there were nights where the wound went farther than his heart. He could feel it in his empty hands, in the cold of his chest, in the greying hair she once ran her hands through. 

Those were the moments where he wondered if it was _him._

_Had they not known him, would they still be?_

If he had not taken Thistima from the slavers, it would have been painful and long but maybe she would have escaped and had a life away from war, away from the piles of bodies on the stairs of the Temple. 

If he had never met her, Maul would never have gone to Mandalore, she wouldn't have come between the both of them, wouldn't have taken the blow for Obi Wan. 

His Master, Qui Gon Jinn, had warned him about being too precipitated, had warned him that he should always see his next step. But his mistake had cost the life of the man that had given him a chance when no one else would.

He had failed Anakin, failed to train him correctly, failed to heal the wounds he ignored. It was his failure that made Anakin Skywalker, a good man with a good heart, into Darth Vader, the killing machine of the Emperor.

The woman he loved had once said that Jedi were terrifying in a way. Obi Wan didn’t know if all of them were.

But he was certainly afraid of himself. 

  
  


**_“My mind feels like a foreign land, silence ringing inside my head”_ **

Just as there are things better left unsaid, there are thoughts better left outside one’s mind.

He couldn’t let himself loose control, he needed to be in his full capacity in case Luke was in danger.

So he did the best thing he could: He gave himself tasks.

Hunt. Scare off the Tusken raiders. Make the cave habitable. Feed the salamander hiding under the hole he called his bed. Go to the market only if absolutely necessary. Check on Luke.

The routine allowed him to focus on what was going on in front of him, allowed him to feel far away from the foreign land his mind had become. 

He tried to memorize the sounds the desert offered, keeping him occupied. 

The silence in the cave seeped through him, all the way to his mind.

A mind he would rather silence than let it return to a past he couldn’t change.

  
  


**_“Please carry me, carry me, carry me home”_ **

Even though the suns on Tatooine had set a great deal of times, the cave didn’t seem to grow any more comforting.

He often thought of the Temple he had grown up in, and then the Temple on Coruscant. He tried to hold on to the feeling of warmth they had provided. He wanted to hold on to the white walls, the shared quarters that were filled with laughter and meditation, the halls of peace and fountains of sparkling water. He wanted to see the caring bonds between master and apprentice, the curiosity of younglings and loyalty amongst brothers, the home he’d always taken for granted.

There was another home he thought of, but only when he felt strong enough to face nostalgia for something he never had. A small hut on Jedha, on the other side of the mountain where a Jedi Temple once stood. 

And yet, even on his best days, he didn’t allow himself to imagine how it would look; how they’d have a sparring mat for her next to the garden he’d tend to. How she would hang up all her weapons, and how the place would smell of cassian trees, endor blooms and ginger, or how he would always be able to come back to her at the end of the day. 

Many times he was tempted to ask, for the first time, something of The Force. He’d ask for it to carry him to the home he never got, if only in dreams.

  
  


**_“I’ve spent all the love I saved”_ **

As he watched Luke grow into a boy with a pair of bright eyes and a kind smile, living the image of his parents, he yearned to go to the farm and talk to him. He wanted to tell him all about how his father had been a hero and a friend, how his mother was one of the people who had fought for the galaxy’s freedom till the very end. He wanted to teach him how to use the Force and the ways of the Jedi before him.

But Obi Wan had made that mistake before, the mistake that had taken the lives of the people he loved.

Getting close to the boy would only put him in more danger, and the less he knew, the less people would notice him. And so, Obi Wan watched from afar as Luke started piloting ships across the canyons, bringing memories of another blue-eyed boy who crashed every ship he flew. Watched as he looked off into the sunset, knowing he was meant for more than farming, but the older jedi could not tell him how right he was.

It was on one of those sunsets that Luke noticed the man sitting nearby and trotted over to him.

“Oh, I've seen you around- Who are you?” he’d asked, in a way only children can ask a stranger.

The man tensed but decided to answer quietly“...My name is Ben”

“I’m Luke! I live right over there” he pointed to the place Obi Wan knew very well to be his home. “Where do you live?”

“Not very far”

“That’s good! It’s getting dark and my aunt says it’s dangerous to be outside your house at ni-” the boy interrupted himself. “I just remembered Uncle Owen told me not to talk to strangers. Could we keep this a secret?”

Ben smiled “Of course”

And with that, the little blonde head went bouncing back into his house.

As Obi Wan climbed back to his own home, he realized that even if it was such a small interaction, he’d been smiling the entire way. 

And although he promised he’d never go as close to Luke again, he’d already given away all the love he had left, to the child who held the fate of the galaxy in his hands.

  
  


**_“We were always a losing game”_ **

From time to time, he had to go into town for the market, to sell the animals he’d hunted.

It was a particular hot day when he went for what felt like the hundredth time. As the vendor started bargaining the price of one of Obi Wan’s scurriers, he noticed a braided necklace, one that seemed too familiar. The negotiations ended quickly from there: one scurrier for the necklace.

He sat down on the edge of the canyon near his home and took the necklace between his fingers, feeling it’s texture almost exactly like the one he’d bought for her all those years ago.

A smile, and a pain in his chest, crept on him as he remembered their story. A mandalorian and a Jedi, supposed to be enemies. She’d considered him one for a while, but war tends to bring people together in odd ways. 

In only two years she gave him a leather strip and tied it around his lightsaber, telling him that she’d prayed to the gods for it to keep him safe and always bring him back to her. He’d given her a metal earring in the same style of his own bracelet, traditional of his home planet, that held a drop of both of their blood inside, forming a small galaxy in symbolism to their union.

They couldn’t get married, planning to do it after the war, with her leaving the mandalorian guard and him leaving the Order, but they gave each other these small things as a promise for the future.

But the future had vastly different plans.

Plans that involved him holding her, trying to carry her out as she grabbed his face and told the last words she’d ever say. It was him clutching her limp body until he was dragged away. 

Before all that happened, when they were still dancing around each other, Cody, who respected but never quite liked her, had said to him that the clones had bet on whatever their relationship was, but that he knew Obi Wan and her were a losing game.

Cody wasn’t wrong, but Obi Wan would lose a thousand games if it meant doing it all over again.

  
  


**_“Small-town boy in a big arcade, I got addicted to a losing games”_ **

After purchasing the necklace, he’d found himself thinking more and more often of a pair of brown eyes, short and disheveled brown hair and a helmet that was melted.

  
  


They had to be discreet, and their moments together were just for them, in abandoned places and dark corners. He wasn’t like Anakin, he didn’t crave adrenaline- it wasn’t the excitement that kept him coming back.

Maybe it was how she could never lie convincingly, or how loyal she was to Mandalore. 

Maybe it was her skills as a warrior, or how she would always put her chin up, how she had a presence that would make everyone turn their heads or how she lived as though she didn’t fear death.

But more than that, he thought it was how her eyes would light up when she smiled, how strong her beliefs were, how she made everyone around her feel safe, how she would make jokes in every possible situation, or how she would always ask for permission before even holding his hand.

He knew he was bound to a code, but he’d learned that it could be interpreted in different ways, many Jedi often used their affection or attachments to grow closer to the Force.

And although he also knew the probabilities of their relationship working were slim, he couldn’t help but go back, time and time again.

It didn’t help that she was already halfway there to meet him every time.

Obi Wan had been addicted to her warmth, her laugh, her eyes, her hands.

He’d plummeted in a love that was deemed to fail.

  
  


**_“All I know, All I know, loving you is a losing game”_ **

Luke became a boy, a boy that became a young man, and Obi Wan’s smile would return more and more often.

He had a new purpose, he could feel his fallen brothers and sisters supporting him through their shared Force, his master’s force ghost had appeared and started to teach him the technique for a life beyond death. He started to feel a sense of peace he thought he’d lost alongside his past. 

Cold nights became silent, and free of nightmares, but Obi Wan became afraid of something different.

He had a single holopicture, containing himself, Anakin and Thistima in front of their squadrons.

But he had nothing to remind him of her face, her smell, or her touch.

For the first time, he found himself actively entering his memories, searching, clinging to her.

_I’ll always love you, in this life and all to come._

_Don’t stop living, all right?_

Her last words still echoed in his chest, but he needed something else than a last kiss and a limp body, so he delved deeper.

She’d pulled him outside while rain poured on them, with brown strands plastered to her forehead and a smile covering half her face.

_“I haven’t really danced in a long time, but I do like dancing” he’d said while taking her hand_

_“Well, if I remember correctly, you’re an excellent dancer. Why haven’t you danced?”_

_“War usually doesn’t give me a reason to”_

_“Now that’s an osik excuse, war is the_ **_exact_ ** _reason why you should dance. You know, some say a mando’ad doesn’t fear death, but in reality we just try to live life that’s remembered by others, but most importantly by yourself. And that, includes dancing”_

_“I guess I have to learn from that”_

_“Ha! Beat you to the life lesson this time, love”_

They’d danced to the rhythm of the drops falling on the floor, spinning and jumping and laughing until he took her inside, worried they might catch a cold.

A killjoy, she’d called him.

He smiled at the memory, and decided to go a bit farther.

On the few occasions that they were both on Coruscant, they’d take strolls around the city. He’d take her to places he knew they wouldn’t be recognized, and they’d be free to do as they pleased.

Physical touch was something intimate to her, so every time she reached for him, she’d hover a few centimeters away, waiting for him to approve. 

This was something that amazed him. This woman had stood up to the Jedi Council, senators, the Chancellor himself, she had bested some of the most skilled masters in combat, she’d taken down crime syndicates and fleets of pirates. She was one of the most dangerous people he’d ever met, but she’d always seemed careful when it came to him. 

Those small walks would turn into hours of teasing, sometimes dancing, sometimes deep meaningful discussions- they also fought from time to time; after all, their beliefs clashed on many points. But they would always come back with smiles on both their faces.

Some nights, as he settled to rest after a long week of battle, she would crawl into bed with him, curling against his embrace and closing her eyes. At first it was unsettling, for he barely slept accompanied, except for huddling for warmth in cold planets or as a child with his master after a bad nightmare. However, as those nights became more and more common, her steady breathing and warm hands grew into the one thing that could scare away his nightmares.

He hadn’t consciously entered a meditative state, but when he thought about it, the feeling of peace had settled on the pit of his stomach. He revelled in that feeling, it was as if all of her was swirling around him.

She smelled of cassian trees and endor blooms. 

She kept her hair short, but after long assignments, it would come all the way down to her shoulders. 

Her nights were rarely filled with sleep.

She loved to learn, and liked to know everything about the people and places she’d see before a mission.

Whenever she tried to contain her laughter, her eyes would close tightly.

Her forearms were usually covered in bruises. 

She had a scar going from the base of her cheek to her left eyebrow, with that eye gone blind. 

She got too carried away in arguments she didn’t really care about.

It was surprising, but since her hands were protected by her gloves, they were unusually soft.

Her silvery voice could turn awfully penetrating. 

She loved to dance, and would sing on special occasions.

Her eyes were brown, a brown that glowed like a pool of honey under the sun.

And she’d told him she would always love him, told him she would never be too far.

He was a calm, endless sea. She was a pillar of colorful fire.

He would evaporate, she would be put out. 

As Cody had said, a losing game, for both of them. 

He knew that, but that fire had made him see the world in a way he’d never seen it before.

And when the fire was put out, it left a coldness nothing seemed to warm. 

Obi Wan wouldn’t forget her. 

And he wouldn’t stop loving her.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from the song: "Arcade" by Duncan Laurence
> 
> I still don't know if anyone will read this, but if you did, I hope you enjoy my favorite character's suffering!  
> Now, you might be wondering who Thistima Saasha and the unnamed mandalorian lover are. I'll make a few works explaining further on, I promise (at some point).
> 
> This is a story that mostly follows cannon but with small tweaks here and there, don't expect a full-on different universe.
> 
> Before I forget, huge thanks to AQuietThinker, my editor, my roomate, my depressed wannabe writer. (If you haven't, go check her works, she is fantastic)
> 
> Well, that's it (for this work, check the other works on the series!). Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought of it, or if you have any comments at all. 
> 
> Hasta la proximaaaaa


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